Killing Chakotay
by sam938
Summary: A Starfleet Captain with the flu is never a pretty thing.


Standard disclaimers. Please do not archive or use the writing without my permission. Written in the 90s.

A/N. This is a take on the game called Clue. If you haven't played it, it might not make sense. Cheers. Sam938

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Kathryn Janeway looked up in intense irritation at her XO as he yet again walked in the door unannounced. She put her feet up under her on the couch in the quarters, took a sip of coffee and glared. "Go away. You're supposed to be on the Bridge."

Chakotay looked back at her and smiled. "I know. I came to see how you were doing. I'll go back in a minute." He looked at her carefully and comprehensively. "Just what *are* you doing? You should be -"

"I'm not done yet. I'll go to bed when I'm finished with this."

He sat down gingerly on the couch next to her. "And *this* is?"

She smiled evilly into her coffee. "Plotting your demise."

He looked startled and then smiled. "I see. How many options have you come up with?"

"Right now I'm selecting from just over a dozen."

He shifted on the couch. "Just a dozen. I'd have expected more."

She glared at him. "I'm not at my best."

He laughed. "I noticed that. Still, any chance you want to run through a few of the favorites with your XO? I'm always available for second opinions."

She shook her head in exasperation. "You just want to stay alive. Ergo, this is clearly a Command decision I have to make alone. And anyway, if you *really* wanted to help, you'd go sit on the holodeck with the safeties off. In the Captain Proton program."

He smiled. "Uhuh... what else should I do?"

"Wait for Paris and his phaser."

He laughed. "I see. Paris with a phaser in the Proton program. It's possible. Any others?"

"Kim in the kitchen with a chopping knife covered with leyola root."

He shuddered. "Much worse. I'd have expected Neelix in the nude with a knife covered with newdona."

She shuddered. "You're a really sick man."

He countered. "I'm not the one that's sick. Any others?"

"Tuvok in the transporter with a toothbrush."

He stared. "A **toothbrush**?"

She took another sip of coffee. "I planned to insist he have you clean out the site for the rest of the trip home."

He looked at her reflectively. "Yeah, that would be a slow and painful death for both of us."

She shrugged. "Tuvok wouldn't mind."

He laughed. "He probably wouldn't."

"All right, any more?"

She smiled. "Yep. The Captain in the cabana with a Klingon club."

"I suppose that's your favorite."

She grinned. "Yeah. I get to do the deed."

He got up from the couch and replicated her some juice. She grimaced at him, but accepted it when he sat back down on the couch. He looked at her apologetically, and said, "Kathryn, I really am sorry."

She sighed. "You should be. You gave me this. I *always* beat viruses; macro, micro, whatever..."

He laughed and shrugged. "Anything you say, Captain. That's certainly what you told me when I suggested it might be best if you moved back into your own quarters for a few days. The Doc did quarantine me, you know. You just ignored it."

She glared at him. "This is the 24th century, damn it. There shouldn't BE any viruses. Besides, I exercise, and I **don't** get sick. Prerogative of the Captain."

"Uhuh."

She sighed. "Has the Doc found anything yet?"

He shook his head. "No. There's nothing we can do." He looked down at the untouched medication on the side of the coffee table. "You *could* take the drugs, you know. You'd feel better."

"They make me sleepy. Besides, I want to suffer so I enjoy it when I kill you."

He tried again. "It's just a Delta quadrant bug. Look at it this way. It's nothing serious. The equivalent of a twentieth-century cold. People had them all the time."

"Which is precisely why I was destined to be born in the 24th century."

"You're still in the Delta quadrant."

She shrugged. " I *knew* there was a reason I've wanted to get this ship home so badly."

He laughed. "Kathryn, you're impossible. And you really ought to be in bed."

She looked up at him seriously. "Is the gossip off the charts?"

He shrugged. "Let's just say there have been some interesting incidents. I **was** the only one who caught the thing, you know, and I *was* quarantined, and now **you've** been quarantined to **my** quarters. Not exactly the lowest profile you could manage."

She sighed. "What have you been saying?"

"Oh, just that we've done a lot of reconnoitering in the Ready Room recently."

She coughed and glared at him. "That's it. You really are dead."

He laughed and picked her up off the couch. "We'll work it out later. Right now, I suggest you go to bed. And that's an Order of the Acting Captain. You can't refuse."

She glared.

He wheedled, "I promise a backrub and a bath."

She sighed. "All right. But I want help with this one. Seven with silicon in the..."

End


End file.
